Running The Banner Down
by starsandgutters
Summary: When you try your best, but end up left behind and broken-hearted, there's only one way not to end up a Lima loser: get the hell out of town. Spoilers up to 3x03, set after the school year ends. A/N: Thanks to epanaphoric for betaing!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

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><p><em>I never thought I'd die alone: another six months, I'll be unknown.<em>  
><em>Give all my things to all my friends.<em>_  
><em>_You'll never step foot in my room again, you'll close it off, board it up._  
><em>Remember the time that I spilled the cup of apple juice in the hall?<em>  
><em>Please, tell Mom this is not her fault.<em>

He hadn't thought it would be so hard. In his mind it had been simple: he would only need to pack a few items, just like every heroic runaway in the movies. But it was so damned _hard_ to leave behind all the stupid little things in his room. His comic collection, his favourite football, his—his _drums._

A tight knot formed in Finn's throat, refusing to let go, as he looked around, surveying the mess scattered over his floor. But then, he replayed in his mind the events of last year, and suddenly his belongings didn't seem so important anymore; on the contrary, they seemed alien, foreign; they didn't belong to _him_ at all. Perhaps to the _old_ him, and well, that was someone he didn't care to be anymore. Which was a pity, because everyone else had _loved_that guy.

The difference to how things stood now was staggering.

His football trophies glinted sardonically at him in the dim light of the room. He'd been so _proud_ of them! He always _had_ been a loser, but at least back then, he'd still felt things might change one day. God, he really _was_the moron everyone thought him to be.

Biting his lip, Finn weighed his backpack in his hand. Light enough. There was still room for a few things. He grabbed a book, hidden in his nightstand drawer: 'The Catcher in the Rye'. His class had been given it as an assignment during the first term of senior year, and he'd never completed it. That, however, didn't mean he hadn't _liked_it, or that he didn't like reading. Sure, it wasn't as great as video games, but it could still be pretty cool. Only, it always took him a while to figure out what the author was getting at, and everyone would always treat him like a moron when he asked. Much better to just never mention so much as cracking a book open.

Shoving the book inside his backpack, he wished for a moment he still had the baby blanket his father had gotten him. Not that he would _sleep_ with it or anything, just… for comfort. To have something of_home_ along the way. But no, the blanket was still with Quinn. She had given up the baby, but kept the blanket, and then she'd wanted the baby back, too . Quinn had always wanted it all. And Finn had got none of it. Bitterness rose in his throat like bile at the thought of the baby girl he'd believed – _wanted_– to be his, and he swallowed it down, grabbing his army knife from the bottom of his wardrobe (his Mom had forgotten to hide it again).

The thing was, the whole 'not living up to people's expectations' thing had gotten pretty old pretty fast. He was supposed to be the golden boy, wasn't he? Starting quarterback, Glee club leader, and his grades weren't _that_bad. Well… not as bad as Brittany's, at least. All the girls had crushed on him. And a boy, too.

But two years down the line, and what was he? An unexceptional quarterback on a mediocre team. Sure, since Coach Beiste had stepped in, they might not have sucked as badly as they'd used to, but the Titans were definitely not scholarship material... and neither was he. Just another misfit in a club that didn't _need_ a leader anymore, and definitely didn't want _him_to have that job, each and every one of its members clear-minded and heading for their own personal dreams. And finally… the boy who'd thought he was too good for Quinn, and had turned out not to be good enough for Rachel.

(And that was in a whole different chapter as far as heartbreak went. Rachel had been… well, she was everything that was hurting Finn right now, times a thousand. He'd thought she was the love of his life, and for a few crazed, brilliant moments, he'd thought he was hers, too. It still burned far too much to think about, so he wouldn't, okay? Okay.)

Still, he had friends. Tons of them. Well, people he could hang with, at least. When it came to people he could count on and open his heart to… well, Finn only really had one such person left, and that person was packing away suitcase after suitcase of clothes for his inevitable move to New York, where he'd wait for his boyfriend to join him so they could live out their fantasy of… God-knew-what; a sock-less world of matching bowties, Vogue issues, and canaries chirping from bedazzled cages?

_Kurt Anderson._ Even thinking about it made Finn shudder; he wasn't quite sure why, he was totally cool with gay dudes, and wanted Kurt to be happy, but... he just didn't _like_Blaine, alright?

In any case, Kurt and Rachel and Blaine planning to move to the city that never sleeps together left Finn sleepless for his own personal reasons.

He had… absolutely no idea what he wanted to do with himself. He knew, just _knew_he wouldn't make it in the Big Apple (honestly, when had he ever been special enough for something like that?), but whenever he thought about staying behind in Lima his chest constricted and he felt panic creeping into his bones.

All in all? He'd never felt more lost. He'd never felt lonelier.

He wasn't sure when, how, or why the idea of leaving on a trip had worked its way into his brain. God knew, it wouldn't lead to any tangible benefits, or change his situation in the least. But if nothing else, it would let him escape the disappointed, pitying stares everyone levelled at him upon finding out he was biding his time working at Burt's garage while they were headed off into the sunset to _live the dream._Besides, he didn't have any summer plans: with Blaine off at Six Flags, Rachel and Kurt were going to spend their time apartment hunting in New York, everyone would just be so _busy_, and… yeah.

He hadn't told anyone, though. He was sure they would say it was a totally lame idea, and how could he be so immature? Finn could see it clearly in his mind's eye—Quinn's scoff, Rachel's eyeroll, Santana's cutting remarks, Kurt's raised eyebrow. No thanks. If he _had_to be lame, at least he didn't want people getting down on him for it. Puck was the only one who might take kindly to the idea, but Finn had the sneaking feeling if he brought his bro along, their "ride on the wild side" would very rapidly turn into a ride on the criminal side, and that just wouldn't do. Besides, he really needed to do this on his own. Except…

Except, of course, his Mom would never, ever let him. He might be 18 now, but to her, he was still the same clumsy kid who she didn't trust with a _goldfish_ (not that he could blame her, honestly); hence the secrecy. Guilt had weighed heavy on his heart at the thought of keeping his _big plan_ bottled inside – if there was one thing he was not designed to do, it was lie – but, he figured… it would all work out in the end. After all, at the rate things were going, leaving would probably hurt _him_the most; people around him would scarcely have time or mind to miss him. And yes, he knew he was giving himself a freaking huge pity party, but he'd tried not doing that, and none of them had been any the wiser for it…

So.

Backpack, duffel bag with clothes, sleeping bag, car keys, all his savings (he'd gone and gotten them from the bank one day when Carole had been working late; he'd intended on using them to pay his college tuition, but that hardly mattered now, did it?)…

He thought about taking his high-school diploma with him, but figured his Mom would want to keep it, as some sort of proof her son wasn't a complete deadbeat.

Thinking about his mother made Finn's heart squeeze painfully. He knew that his leaving without warning – even if only for the summer (…or was it?) – would hurt her; she loved him, even if he hadn't achieved much of anything in his high school years, even if he had failed to get in to anywhere really good like he knew she'd wished for him. But she had a life of her own now, one that didn't revolve around him anymore, with Burt and Kurt and everything, and… yeah. She'd live. But all in all, she'd probably be the only person Finn would miss once he left. Well… her and Kurt, anyway. Finn wasn't sure when Kurt had become so important to him – a warm, bright presence flitting in and out of his vision, yet always to be counted upon in times of need – he only knew it felt _good_, and Finn didn't want to lose that.

But bigger and brighter things were in Kurt's destiny than having to deal with his washed-up kinda-almost-brother, so it wasn't fair to want him to stick around. And Finn wasn't going to be that kind of friend. Brother. Friend. Whatever.

He took a deep breath, looking around his room one last time. He'd been happy here, although it seemed like a lifetime ago. There were so many things he loved, but so little he actually needed. Life was funny that way, and Finn Hudson was learning it for the first time in his young years.

He pushed the door open quietly. Going downstairs without waking anyone (or tripping over his own feet) would be a challenge.

_(You can do it, Finn, you can do it_, he repeated in his mind like a mantra. _Stealthy like a ninja. Silent like a… silent thing.)_

When he reached the hall, he still couldn't believe he'd done it. The clock on the wall glared at him, hands pointing out the time – 3.40 in the morning. On the shelf beneath it, a tiny, funny-shaped object caught Finn's attention; Kurt's crazy hippo brooch. A half-smile tugged at Finn's lips – that boy really _was_something, wasn't he? He picked the brooch up, wondering if Kurt would miss it. Well, of _course_ he would, Kurt was a freaking maniac about _all_of his stuff, but…

Finn shrugged, and pocketed the small object. After all, Kurt was going to get his Xbox with all of his Tekken games (and Finn _knew_Kurt loved those, no matter how much the boy tried to deny it) so it was only fair that Finn got something, too.

For the hundredth time, he considered leaving a note. He'd thought about it, picturing a thousand different messages in his mind, but words always had a way of turning against him when he least expected it, fading into entirely different nuances, shifting treacherously under his feet like quicksand, never enough to express what he really meant. Eventually it was simply too disheartening to bother with it.

He unlatched the front door – the sound ominously loud to his hyper-aware ears – then locked it behind himself once he was out (it was a risk, but what if some weirdo broke into the house and robbed his parents or beat up Burt or tried to do horrible things to his Mom or Kurt? Not cool, man. _Not. Cool._)

His eyes strayed to the mailbox, and he weighed the keys in his hand for a moment. Surely, even if he was leaving, he would still be a part of the family, right? They wouldn't shut him out or anything. He had a right to keep his keys, didn't he…?

He closed his eyes briefly, his brow creasing. Then, taking a heavy breath, he reached forward, dropping the keys into the mailbox with a loud _clunk_. Fair was fair. He'd let everyone down – himself included – so if they wanted to let _him_down by not wanting him back… he'd have to live with it. He shuddered, and told himself it was the wind.

It was pretty chilly for late June, and the cool night air against his skin woke him up fully, although he'd never gone to sleep in the first place. Beneath the crushing weight of his frustration, confusion and sheer loneliness, he could feel a twinge of excitement struggling to rise to the fore.

Heading to the barely-held-together piece of junk that passed for his car, he slung his meagre luggage into the backseat. He knew his Mom and Kurt were light sleepers, and one or both of them would probably hear the engine as it roared and sputtered to life, but that wasn't an issue. By the time they realised he was gone, it would be too late. Hell, he'd even pushed both pillows under the bedsheets, because _duh,_ he'd watched _those_movies.

His skin tingled with nerves and excitement. Before the sun rose, he'd be far, far away from Lima. Headed where… he hadn't decided yet.

Sitting in the driver's seat and looking at the familiar streets in front of him, Finn allowed himself one last regretful thought about the promising young man Finn Christopher Hudson had been, and the train wreck he'd managed to become in less than three years.

Then he turned the key in the ignition, and pressed his foot firmly to the gas.

_I never conquered, rarely came. Sixteen just held such better days._  
><em>Days when I still felt alive, we couldn't wait to get outside.<em>_  
><em>_The world was wide. Too late to try._

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

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><p><em>No, I don't know where I'm going<br>__But I sure know where I've been  
><em>_Hanging on the promises in songs of yesterday  
><em>_And I've made up my mind  
><em>_I ain't wasting no more time  
><em>_Here I go again, here I go again._

_**Here I Go Again - Whitesnake**_

* * *

><p>Kurt Hummel heard the car engine kick into life on some subliminal level of awareness. It didn't really register into his conscious mind – but it was enough to make him start tossing and turning in his sleep for the following few hours.<p>

At five to 6, finally snapping completely awake, he slung his legs over the bed and headed groggily downstairs to make some coffee.

He never knew if it was a sixth sense or just a random impulse that made him look out of the window and see the empty parking spot where Finn's old beat-up car should be; but somehow, running upstairs to his brother's bedroom, he knew exactly what he was about to find.

In spite of the untouched mess on the floor and the pathetic pillow ploy, Finn was obviously gone.

Finn drove for the remainder of the night. In spite of what everyone said about him, he might be dumb, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that in the morning – if not earlier, heck – his family would find out he was gone; if he stopped too soon, it would be a piece of cake to track him down and bring him back. He just needed to get far enough to make people lose his tracks. Hit the highway, then take a secondary road, didn't matter which one, as long as it got him _out._

He kept his cell phone turned off, knowing all too well he would find it overloaded with missed calls and texts later. Well… from his Mom, anyway. He wasn't sure any of his friends from Glee club – much less from the sport teams – would care enough to call. Still, his Mom would, and he felt bad for basically shutting the phone in her face, but he really needed to save the battery, and… he didn't want to risk the chance of being persuaded to come back. No, he was going to _do_ this.

So he kept driving, stopping at every gas station he found open, caffeine and adrenaline zinging through his veins even as tiredness crept into his bones.

A small thrill ran down his spine, feverish, when he crossed the state line. Indiana. Yes, it might have just been the neighboring state, but Finn Hudson wasn't a man of the world, so it was still pretty exciting. The highway stretched ahead into the early morning darkness, the silence only broken by the few cars driving past or alongside him.

Strange. When planning his getaway, Finn had thought he would blast some music, he would sing along to some good old fashioned rock'n'roll, but… he found himself reluctant to turn the radio on, as if afraid it would mar the significance of the moment.

He was running away. He _had_ run away. Starting a new life.

Biting his lip, he drove on in silence.

He was passing through a town called Kokomo when the sun began to rise.

Pulling over to the side of a street in a quiet suburb, he got outside and scrambled onto the roof of the car. His nervous energy was starting to burn out, but that wasn't why he had stopped.

Finn wasn't much of an early riser, _especially_ on weekends or in the summer (seriously, who the hell gets up early when they're on vacation?), therefore it was a while since he'd last seen the dawn.

He couldn't remember where he'd been, or with whom. He'd always wanted to watch the sunrise with his girlfriend, but that would have required both of them being happy and carefree and in love. You can't cuddle up to someone in the quiet of dawn when they're trying to get you to father their – _their_ – baby, or when they're sulking at you for not having enough _drive_ and letting your talents go to waste.

He pulled his knees up to himself and got a bottle of Coke from his backpack, shivering a little in the breeze, as his eyes remained glued to the sky. He wasn't with the girl he loved, and he wasn't on a beach, or in New York, or anywhere really cool; just in a dull small-city neighborhood, by himself, on the top of his beat-up car.

It was still the most beautiful thing he'd seen in a long, long time.

After the sun had risen halfway into the morning sky, Finn slid off the car, stretching his numb, cold muscles, and got back inside. He was really tired by now, and he'd need to crash soon – his eyes were itching with tiredness, but he forced them into staying open – but not for a little while more. Revving the car back into motion, he drove for as long as he could trust himself not to fall asleep. At one point, the landscape whizzing past by the windows started blurring into one big dusk-gray blot, his eyelids feeling as heavy as if someone had just dropped a cartoony anvil on them, but still he kept going.

He was petrified that someone _had_ heard him and somehow managed to follow him, even if he'd taken care not to stay on the same route for long. That would be the worst, Finn thought. If his Mom came to get him before he'd even really got away; he would have hurt her, _and_ he would have failed. Yet again.

He managed another 45 minutes, driving through a small town named Delphi, then pulled over into a semi-deserted gas-station (no way was he going to fall asleep and risk running over another mailman, not that he had any clue what a mailman would be doing on a Indiana highway at dawn).

Finn scrambled his way over to the backseat and unfurled his sleeping bag. Then, remembering just how freaking warm that thing was, he started trying to strip off his t-shirt, somehow managing to bump his head into the roof and punch himself in the face while at it. He'd just wriggled his way inside the warm cocoon when he remembered he should lock the car doors, nearly falling off the seat as he reached for the button.

Finally, he lay back, curling up as best he could in the small space. The morning sun would have made it near-impossible to fall asleep, but Finn, completely burned out from fatigue and nerves, blacked out the very moment he let his eyes drift closed.

Finn woke up sometime after noon, sunlight streaming hotly into the car making him feel like he was stuck inside a pressure cooker. He struggled out of his sleeping bag, his stomach rumbling ominously as he did so. Man, he was hungry.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he reached for his cellphone, abandoned on the passenger seat, and turned it on.

There were twelve missed calls (four from home, five from his mom's cellphone, one from Burt's and two from Kurt's) plus a series of increasingly irritated texts from his stepbrother.

_Well, I guess Rachel hasn't heard yet. _

Finn was relieved, because he was sure that as soon as she did, the attempts to contact him would redouble; not exactly because she would _worry_ for him, but because Rachel _loved_ a good bout of drama, and she would firmly cast herself as the tragic heroine. He could just see Kurt rolling his eyes as she paced around dramatically, tiny hand clutching at her chest, proclaiming that 'if anyone can touch his heart and get him to come back, that's me!'.

…Not to mention she would probably tell everyone she knew, which could get awkward. It was already bad enough as it was; Finn figured his Mom had worked herself into a frenzy and more or less forced Burt and Kurt to call. Why else would they?

_Stop pitying yourself,_ scolded a voice in his head whose resemblance to Quinn's was uncanny. _They care and you know it. Especially Kurt._

That was true. Finn knew they cared, really. It was just easier to convince himself only his Mom gave a damn – and she pretty much _had to_ by job definition, anyway – because otherwise, he would only be hurting _more_ people, and… he didn't need the extra weight.

With a long sigh, he started typing a text to his Mom's number. Man, he felt more like a piece of shit with each letter he punched in.

_Mom, it's Finn. I'm sorry if I scared you. I just want you to know I'm all right and nothing bad happened to me. I just can't be at home right now. I need to be on my own and I know this was bad of me but please try to understand.I'm so sorry but please don't worry about me. I promise I'll take care. I love you._

After looking at the "message sent" screen for a few moments, he started another one, this time less sure what to say.

_Hey, Kurt. I know u're upset-_

Wait, that sounded arrogant, didn't it? Kurt was only worrying like any good brother. Finn couldn't just assume that the other boy was spilling hot tears over his disappearance. In fact, he probably wouldn't even miss him, especially since he was moving to New York in a month.

_Hey Kurt. I know u're probably mad at me for just leaving-_

(Yes, this was better. More realistic. People tended to get mad at him a lot.)

_-but I'm ok & there's nothing 2 worry about. Just need 2 be on my own. Pls try 2 get mom not to worry either. I'll be fine, promise. I lo-_

He frowned. He had meant the words in the same way he had to his mother, in a _family_ way, but they just… _looked_ different when they were written down in the blank space under Kurt's name. He deleted them.

_I'll miss u _

He hesitated, biting his lip. It was true, but why admit it and sound like a total girl? What if Kurt didn't reply "I'll miss you" back? And even if he did, there was no reason to put that weight on him, was there? Much better to leave it at that. Or…

_Good luck in NY.:]_

He sent the message, his heart strangely heavy for some reason he could not comprehend. Then he turned the cellphone off again, some of the weight removed from his shoulders with the simple gesture.

Putting his t-shirt back on and running his hands through his hair with the only result of messing it up even more, he unlocked the car doors and crawled out, stretching his sore muscles in the warm sunshine. His stomach growled at him again, a clear signal that unless he got some food in there, things would get ugly.

He scoped the surroundings curiously. There were flat lands all around, and some really tall, narrow windmills spinning slowly in the barely-blowing breeze. They didn't look anything like those cute Dutch windmills he'd seen in school books, but it was still pretty cool.

A sudden rush of excitement seemed to run over him. He was in a new place, on his own, and farther from home than he'd ever been if one didn't count the New York trip. He could do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted, _be_ whoever he wanted, without constantly being afraid to let people down.

Happily humming a Bon Jovi song under his breath, he reached for his backpack and strolled over to the small shop at the gas station, hoping to find something that passed for actual food.

The shop was cool, air conditioning blasted at full power, dispelling his grogginess bit by bit. Browsing the aisles, he picked up all the stuff Carole and Kurt insisted was bad for him (Slim Jims, KitKats, Doritos, and other such items) but that was more out of principle than actual choice; right now, he was longing for some home-made waffles, or even Kurt's low-calorie pancakes, with that syrupy sauce that—but well, no matter. Hell, he was a runaway; he could deal with some discomfort.

Heading to the cashier's desk, he let the handful of junk food tumble on it as he reached for his wallet.

"Howdy! Late morning today?" a cheery voice made him look up, and he noticed the girl sitting behind the desk for the first time.

She was blonde and petite in a way that had nothing to do with Quinn. Her hair framed her face in thick, curling locks, and the twinkle in her bright blue eyes was genuine and playful. She reminded him a little of Brittany, although there was nothing naïve in her bubbly demeanor. She seemed more like… a younger April Rhodes, Finn thought. Only not soaked in alcohol.

"Um… yes, pretty much," he replied with a weak smile, wondering if it was _that_ obvious that he had only just woken up. People back home always said he looked kind of sleepy _all_ the time. He thrust the money at her, shyly.

"Don't worry, I'm not psychic. You're the guy who was sleeping in the car, yeah? I saw you on my way here. Do you even fit on that backseat? You looked kinda cramped," she chirped, counting the change she owed him.

_Shit._

Finn hadn't counted on anyone seeing him all curled up in his junky car. That hardly made him look like a cool runaway—more like a pathetic kid with no direction. _Oh, wait._

"I'm Kayla, by the way." A brilliant smile and a held-out hand interrupted his disappointed musings.

"Finn," he said, shaking her tiny hand and feeling grateful she didn't ask for a last name. Just in case his Mom had the police looking for him or something.

Kayla gave him a small plastic bag, and watched him pensively as he tried to fit all the horribly unhealthy snacks in it.

"Wait, is that what you're planning to have for breakfast?"

"I, uh…" _Great. More judgment, and you only just met this chick. _"Yeah? I mean I know it's not really good for you and stuff, but-"

"Oh, I don't really care about that, I mean whatever, not much the salad type myself. I'm just saying, is it nearly enough? I mean you're like, giant," she giggled. "And you kinda look like you're still growing, too. D'you wanna go for lunch? I know this place that makes like, _killer_ hashbrowns and a mean cup of coffee. Way better than this crap right here," she pointed at the automatic coffee dispenser in the shop.

Finn frowned in confusion. "Uh, but… don't you kinda have to run the shop, or…?"

Shrugging, she hopped onto the counter and swung her legs around. "Nah. It's my cousin's, I just help him out. My old folks have another one a few miles away. I do this in the summer for some pocket money, but it's dead boring, it's what it is. 'cept when some new faces show up," she concluded, poking his arm.

"Rooooy! I'm goin'out for lunch!" she called out in an unexpectedly loud voice, in the general direction of the toilet door. A non-committal grunt sounded from inside.

Finn followed her outside, squinting against the sun. She was wearing a faded t-shirt and jean shorts, her tanned, toned legs fitted into cowboy boots.

"Uh, my car's the other way," he pointed out hesitantly.

"Yeah, we're going with mine. I don't climb into strangers' cars," she winked, extracting bubblegum from one pocket and tossing him the half-empty package. It didn't make much sense to Finn, but then, a lot of things didn't make sense to him. Shrugging, he popped a piece of gum in his mouth and followed the girl.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

_A/N: Thanks to dionah for betaing!_


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